


Babysitting

by TriffidsandCuckoos



Category: Fantastic Four (Movieverse), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Reed and Tony do not get along, Steve is long-suffering, Sue is long-suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/pseuds/TriffidsandCuckoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Watching Tony and Richards talk is morbidly fascinating because of everything that isn’t being said.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babysitting

Watching Tony and Richards talk is morbidly fascinating because of everything that isn’t being said.

It isn’t that the two of them are sitting in silence. Steve’s been sitting here an hour now (it feels longer) and they haven’t stopped at all. However, none of it seems to have been in basic English – just science speak, the kind where if he asks a question he feels like he’s five years old and Tony reverts to that eye-rolling superior head of Stark Industries he’d been when they first met, if only for a moment. Not understanding, though, means Steve has more time than usual to watch what’s actually happening here.

For instance, once you give up on trying to listen to Richards, you notice that he hasn’t looked away from his whiteboard since the brief glance of acknowledged they’d apparently merited on entering the room (and that due to Sue’s insistence). He’ll respond with single sentences, all sounding very smart and unintelligible – although Steve understands smug intellectual superiority no matter what the person in question thinks they’re saying (some things never change) – only this whole time he’s never stopped writing formulae which stretch, well, as far as Richards can. The impression isn’t of listening, or even interest, but rather total indifference – or, Steve reflects, of a father absent-mindedly entertaining a son who already thinks he knows everything.

Which might be why Steve, for all he genuinely tries to see the good in people (or at least the people he’s only just met, and who are apparently going to help save the world and don’t seem to want to rule it, if only because the idea probably bores them), for all that he is supposed to be the diplomat here – for all this, Steve just can’t warm up to this man. Condescension isn’t a trait he’s ever valued. He can see now why Fury seemed so reassured by the presence of Sue, quite possibly the longest-suffering woman Steve has met in his entire life (and he has met Pepper Potts). Within the first thirty seconds, it had become clear that she’s here mostly as damage control; to make sure that Richards plays nice.

It dawned on Steve very soon afterwards that that’s why he’s here as well.

He didn’t need Bruce’s warning, it turned out – the amount that Tony didn’t (and doesn’t) want to be here was clear long before they reached the Baxter Building. It was obvious the moment Fury said Richards’ name – no, before that, as realisation dawned in the face of Fury’s summation of the situation – when Tony seemed to actually recoil from the mere suggestion of coming here. The entire car trip had been a nightmare of stung ego and catty commentary and stony silences and attempted hacks of the traffic network to turn every light in New York City red. (Steve took the opportunity during yet another delay to give Tony a refresher on abuse of power, and funnily enough, the lights changed almost immediately. He’d like to think Tony listened to him, but most likely it’s the usual knee-jerk reaction to lectures that Steve’s witnessed a hundred times before.)

Still, Bruce’s heads-up at least meant Steve could prepare himself – as far as it was ever going to be possible.

From the moment Tony muttered the obligatory “Richards” and threw himself into the furthest chair away from the board – and hence the man before it – his tablet has been in his hand and he hasn’t stopped tapping away at it once. 

Steve knows when Tony is on autopilot and this is it. _Sullen_ is the word that springs to mind a little too readily, because Steve can identify a Stark pout at thirty paces, even if the rest of the world can’t. If he’s playing the display of work up at all – while he’s not an expert, most likely never will be, Steve is fairly certain that’s Tony’s most unnecessarily advanced tablet, the one with embedded holograms which are currently being casually scattered across the desk – it’s only because that’s what Tony Stark does.

All of this means that neither Tony nor Richards is making eye contact, or even paying all that much attention (assuming that Richards is as loathe to engage as Tony), despite the kind of terms they’re throwing around. Steve and Sue are left trying to hold this paltry conversation together, forcing the two to interact and pay enough attention to make sure the world doesn’t end, and quite frankly – given the sniping and the arrogance and Richards getting increasingly detached and Tony getting increasingly angry – Steve isn’t entirely sure it’s worth the effort.

They haven’t stopped talking. But without Steve or Sue, ironically enough, nothing would be said.

As Richards connects a formula to the words _Negative Zone_ with a flourish and Tony’s eye twitches as a redesign for the Quinjet comes to life under his fingers, Steve can’t help but recall Bruce’s warning yet again.

If you have two of the smartest people in the world in the same room, all you get is two of the world’s most aggravating and stubborn children.


End file.
